


Little Candy Hearts

by Hotaru_Mizuno



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fluff, M/M, Other background Hetalia characters, Past FrUk, Sick Character, Valentine's Day, locker gifts, long oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22714831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotaru_Mizuno/pseuds/Hotaru_Mizuno
Summary: Arthur is devastated after his break up with Francis, a week before Valentine's Day. For some reason, Alfred seems really quite determined to make things better for him.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	Little Candy Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Valentine's Day fic :3 
> 
> Thought I would do one. This one was a bit of hard one, I ended up with a whole 10,000 words. That's a bit insane. 
> 
> Warning: breakups, depressing thoughts, self-hatred thoughts, toxic thoughts.

_February 10th_

He scowled at the tiny bag in his locker.

He had opened his locker to find a tiny, festive paper bag on his shelf, decorated with little hearts and wrapped up with a red and pink ribbon. He scrunches his nose. He feels a quiet pang in his heart as he gingerly picks it up, examining it with fixed distaste.

Bollocks, who on earth was this from? Who would be handing this practical joke off to him this close to it's a respective holiday when it was common knowledge its receiver would be in no way wanting anything to do with it? What complete idiots. What did this accomplish? Making Arthur feel better?

He considered throwing it away. What was the point? What would happen if he opened it? Nothing but making him feel worse, probably. He didn't need another reminder of the past week. He didn't need another reminder of Francis….

Francis….

He growled at himself and slammed his locker door. No. Certainly not. He was not sparing that git another thought, to hell with this bloody holiday. He walked across the hall, barely keeping his stomping to a minimum and within seconds, the stupid gift was in the rubbish bin.

He doesn't care who it's from. He doesn't care if that very person had just witnessed him trashing the little offering. He does not care. He wants this holiday to burn and crash and blow up. He doesn't want to be reminded off all it represents, of all it has done to him, of all that stupid French bastard had promised before-

No.

He won't.

He is Arthur Kirkland. He will not let this get to him.

___________________

"It is a hopeless case. I refuse." Arthur announced, glaring at everyone in the room.

Roderich was the first to respond. "Don't be a stubborn mule, Arthur. He's a good student, and he won the elections fair and square. The only one who doesn't want him is you. Your argument has no grounds."

Arthur growls, anger boiling. The creases in his forehead, creases that have haunted him for the past few days, harden on his face. He's hated the last few days, barely fighting tears, barely sane, and then Mr. Jones the Golden Boy waltzes right on into his life. Just great. Just, bloody, great.

And of course, even as student council president, he has no control.

He still glares at Alfred from across the room. He doesn't care if this is not fair. He hated Alfred, hated him, and he was not sparing him any mercy. "This is utter rubbish, and it won't be my fault. I disagree with the lot of you."

"Arthur, honestly, you're so mean." Elizaveta whispers, smirk on her face, but Arthur doesn't even spare her a look.

"If there's not anything else you'd like to ruin my bloody day with, i believe we can all go home now. Good day." He says coldly, standing. He wants a cup of tea. He thinks of the warm brew, and it makes him feel somewhat better. Lately, this is all he can do. Not since-

No. Fuck you, Francis.

The council had been filling out, all chattering, not a care in the world. Arthur turns to watch them go, when he sees Alfred still sitting there, an awkward look on his face as he sat in the roller chair someone had pulled up at the table for him.

"What the bloody devil do you want?" Arthur seethes, glare resumed on his face. He knows his hatred is unfair, and ruthlessly cold, but he does not care. Perhaps, a week before, he didn't hate Alfred, or any of his crew so much, but now? He could barely look any of them in the eye, Alfred included.

"I'm sorry about what happened." Alfred spoke up, sparkling blue eyes meeting his gaze. "I couldn't bear to let that keep going. Francis would have kept you deceived like that for months. I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare mention that frog." Arthur hissed, recoiling as if the name was poison.

"I-I...sorry. I'm just sorry. I mean it." Alfred said, and Arthur's rage wavers as he watches those perfect blue eyes fill with concern and comfort. He is genuinely sorry, and he truly wants nothing more than for Arthur to accept it.

Arthur bites his tongue. No. You must move on, Arthur. Nothing will come if you let Francis do this to you. He stares at Alfred, cursing that perfect face, and all it is. He sighed. Did he feel….guilty? No! For Alfred?!

"Arthur?" The man in question flinches, eyes finding Alfred again. He releases his scowl. He's so tired of this game already. He just wants to curl up and cry. But then what would that solve? He'll prove that Francis won. He doesn't want that. He mustn't. He does not want to.

"I accept your apology." Arthur said quietly. He falters as he sees Alfred's famous smile light up his face. No, he hates, hates that smile, but why does it make him feel better to see it? Oh, why must everything be so much harder? He wants to get this week over with. Soon, this will all be over, and he can begin to forget it all. He will never have to think about Francis ever again.

"Thank you." Alfred said, grin growing as he got up. It's truly a dazzling sight, and it makes Arthur's stomach crawl. No one in this school was hotter than Alfred Jones, and everyone knew it. Arthur only nods stiffly, finding his lips buzzing at the mere revelation that he accepted the git's apology. "You know, if you want, I can give you a ride home. We could even hit up a fast-food restaurant, and I can keep you company, food on me. "

Arthur couldn't help the bewilderment that crossed his face. What is this? "Why?"

"Because, I want to make things better. Come on, please? And even if you regret it, it helps, in times like these, grieving and stuff, to socialize." Alfred gave a hopeful smile as he pulled a bag strap over his shoulder. "Please?"

Arthur growls at Alfred at such a word. No, he is not grieving. "I am not grieving." He said, glaring sharply. He thinks for a moment, and the idea of Alfred thinking he needs to help him bites at his mind. He doesn't need help, he will recover just smoothly, and he doesn't need or want Alfred's help. And he will prove it. He snatches the meeting papers off the table. "Fine, if you insist. You pay every penny."

"Oh, right! Awesome! Of course! Come on! You'll have fun, I swear." It's blinding how happy Alfred is, and it makes Arthur's heart swell and he grumbles, stuffing the papers as neatly in his bag as he can as he makes to follow a practically leaping Alfred out the door.

He hates that he agreed, but he must prove that he is fine. He is not grieving. He is fine.

________________

He sits there, tired and grumpy, and holding a fountain drink in a plastic cup at a restaurant he didn't care for waiting for food that he also didn't care for and watching Alfred sit there from across the table.

He hated this.

"When's the last time you slept?" Alfred suddenly asked his gaze meeting Arthur's as he began to peer at his face.

Arthur grumbles, not liking this question. Oh, what? Since….since….. He really hadn't had a full night's rest since…..there's probably dark circles under his eyes now and everything. Pitiful. But Arthur will not allow himself to be pitied. "I'm fine. I've slept plenty." He said.

Alfred adjusted his glasses, sipping on his ridiculously large soda. "Really? You're starting to get those circles under your eyes, man. You're gonna end up looking like some sort of ancient wizard."

Arthur glared, not liking the comment. "I said I'm fine. Kindly drop it."

"Okay geez. Sorry, I bet you'd look cool that way anyway." Alfred shrugged as he continued. "I kinda get the feeling I ruined your student council meeting."

"Bollocks. You're a member now. You didn't ruin anything. Don't be a sap." Arthur scoffed. He wants to say Alfred did indeed ruin it, but he only ruined Arthur's chain of events. As rude as he can be, he can't take responsibility for everyone. Quite a few members wouldn't be happy at all to hear that.

"Yeah, but it's kinda just sour, you know?" Alfred said, smiling awkwardly. "I know you don't like me."

"Oh, bugger, what on earth gave it away?" Arthur said sarcastically. He really just wants to get this whole bloody week over with. He wants to get this day over with. What a bloody waste of time.

"I just…..I feel bad." Alfred said lamely. His eyes sparkled in the low light of the room, and it makes Arthur's world oh so bloody much better. "I don't want you to hate me."

"Tough luck," Arthur said coldly.

Alfred frowned, opening his mouth to argue further, but then the order number on their receipt was called. Alfred sighed in disappointment, getting up to go get their food.

_______________

_February 11th_

The next day, there's another gift.

Arthur scowled, cursing the existence of the bag sitting on top of his textbooks. It's bigger, and the form of the bag suggests there's a box sitting inside. Bollocks, someone knew his locker combination. What determination.

Should he bite?

Arthur swears out loud and slams his locker door shut, stepping away like some foul animal was lurking inside. No, no, no. He will not. He growls as he walks off, forgetting his locker trip entirely. This was getting out of hand. Why was he like this? Surely he really is fine?

No. He is better than ever without that stupid frog. He was fine.

He avoids his locker as best as he can for the rest of the day. Even thinking about the fact that there was a stupid representation of that stupid holiday in his locker made him want to hurl. By his fifth class, he becomes well aware that not only was this childish, but impractical. He also needed a science textbook for his next class or he was surely going to end up with a failed paper.

So, begrudgingly, he ended up back at his locker before said sixth class, mind screaming hell at him as he did his combination.

His mood sours more and more as his eyes meet the red and pink paper gift sitting on the shelves, staring back loomingly as it sat in front of his textbooks. Oh no. He has to touch it. Oh bloody hell, he was being a bloody child! What did this accomplish?! He literally hated every minute of all of this! Oh god, and it was only Tuesday. Oh lord.

His hands are almost shaking as he picks up the bag, almost like one would pick up a dead animal. He sighs and peers inside the festive paper, and his whole being falters as the smell of roses meets his nose.

Roses.

Drawn past the point of unwillingness, Arthur slowly drew his hand inside, pulling out the box-like shape. Tea. A box of tea. Rose tea. Expensive rose tea. It's even Arthur's favorite brand, and there's a card attached. Arthur feels emotional turmoil build upon the walls of his sanity as he opens the little card, face drawn like he if expected dynamite inside.

A love poem. Bollocks.

_"Roses like you,_  
_Brighten my day._  
_Buds like you,_  
_Make my day_

_I suck at poems, please, I just, know you like tea and roses and this is for you. I hope you like it."_

Underneath the bold, red ink is another, hastily scribbled note, as if the writer had hurriedly added something as an after note.

_"Please don't throw this one away."_

Arthur's eyebrows drew together as those common creases of lines on his forehead reappeared in his face. Oh god. He wanted to hurl. Roses and tea. What a...why...did he actually appreciate this? But, but then who was this from? What idiot was getting these gifts for him?! And more importantly, why? Why?

Arthur's hands shake as he holds the box, staring at it in disbelief. He wants nothing to do with this holiday, scared of it like the plague. He wanted to just finish his student council work and then forget, sink back into life and never acknowledge this whole damn month of this year ever again.

He realizes how badly he's shaking. He blinks rapidly, his thoughts banging across his already exhausted head like bricks on an umbrella. Oh, pull yourself together, Arthur. It's just a little gift. It's not like Francis himself is standing behind you. Arthur bit his lip, staring at the stupid package. As he did, he heard the bell rang, signaling his break period was over and he was now late to class. Was he….on the brink of…?

No. He didn't cry on the night it happened and he will not now. He didn't need to. He didn't want to. See? He was fine.

He slowly grabbed his textbooks, and then placed them and the box of tea into his bag, and closed his locker, less aggressively than earlier. It's quiet in the halls as he stalks off.  
The fact that he took the gift means nothing. His walls are not crumbling. He can do this. He can get through this.

And he will.

Just you watch, Francis.

____________

He makes tea in the council room today.

Well, he always does that, but the one difference this time is the fact he's brewing the ones from the box he just got less than two hours ago. He's using the gift. Well, of course he would. Its tea, god dammit. What was he supposed to do? Waste perfectly good tea? Ha. What utter rubbish.

He's the only one in the room, as normal. He didn't have anyone to slow him down on his way from classes to meetings, and even if he did, he was responsible. Besides, he was the president. This kind of behavior was routine for him. He is the most important piece on the board. The one who must not, and as long as Arthur had anything to do with it, will not fall.

In front of him, sitting on the counter, is the little notecard with which the lousy excuse for a poem and the sentiment is written, detached in order to open the box. Arthur stares at it while he waits for his tea to finish, trying very hard to not think about what it represents as he tries to decipher what was going on.

So he had some secret admirer, or at the very least, someone was getting him gifts portraying that someone admired him. Oh, for god's sake, that was the same thing. That accomplished nothing. He couldn't avoid that this was a love statement of some sort, oh, but he wanted to. So, so badly. Acknowledging that brought him one step closer to acknowledging that blasted, hell-bound holiday and then, he'd end up acknowledging Francis and then last week and-

Fucking hell.

The electric kettle beeps at him, and he takes it, pushing forward one of the many teacups he kept in the council room just for occasions like these. Tea is a beverage with respect and dignity, no matter which country Arthur lived in. The Brit calmed his mind as he took in the smell of roses and tea and the sugar he pours into his brew, letting it flood his mind and leave nothing behind. This way, he pulls off the raging storm for another day.

"Hey, Arthur!" His purge is Interrupted. "Did you print the ticket charts yet?"

"On the table." Arthur murmured, taking his first sip of tea as he watched Ekaterina walk across the room in her bubbly manner. It's Tuesday, Arthur. You can get through this. It's fine. You are fine.

The student council meeting starts not long after that, today's subject being once again about the vast preparations for the school's….February dance scheduled on Friday night. It was all coming into place, and quite frankly, thanks to Arthur, it will be a success. He is pleased to add that it is thanks to him that they ended up with all of this funding.

Francis helped him come up with that idea.

Shit.

Droplets of tea fell on his papers as he not so gently put his teacup down, caught up in another one of his charades. He does not miss Francis by any means. Francis is dead to him. He mutters that to himself, calming the tremors in his brain that threatened to break apart his emotional sanity.

"You alright, Arthur?" Elizaveta spoke up, and Arthur flinched at his vice president's voice. Oh God, how much of that was visible?

"Hmm? Fine." Arthur said, his mind jumping back to the present. This is not last week. Francis is gone.

"You haven't said a word." She commented, surveying the other with concern. Arthur swallowed a glare, quickly taking up his tea to hide behind. Francis always commented...no. No, no, no. _Go away. Go away. Go away._

"I believe you're doing a good job." He paused, frowning behind his tea. "Might want to stop Feliks from ranting at some point. We have other points to get to today."

"Oh, haha, we have the whole evening if need be," Elizabeth muttered, giggling under her breath. "You alright though? You look tired."

He only slept three hours last night. Oh well, he'll be fine. Sleep was always attainable. Francis is- oh for fucking fuck's sake.

He opened his mouth to reply once again, only to catch the eyes of someone else in the room. Golden boy Alfred is staring at him from across the table. His bright, perfect blue eyes an almost mesmerizing sight as their gaze connected with Arthur's.

And then all too soon, Alfred notices Arthur is staring back, and he quickly looks away, head snapping back to Feliks as his cheeks begin to burn pink. Was he….blushing? What…?

"I'm fine…" Arthur finally said, his gaze slowly drifting back to Elizaveta. How odd.

"Alright. Whatever, crazy Brit." Elizaveta. "We might need some extra copies of the concessions stand list, by the way. Have you looked that over yet?"

Arthur shook his head, slowly being immersed in student council business once again.. He almost feels as if he's never quite been so busy. Then again, with all that's been happening...no, bugger. Everything is alright. Of course he's busy. They're planning a school dance. Next to prom, this is one of the biggest formal events of the year.

"I'll get them to you by tomorrow morning," Arthur muttered, eyes focusing on how Roderich and Feliks had somehow launched into some debate.

_____________

_February 12th_

As if in tune with some pattern, there's a third gift.

This time, it's a large stuffed rabbit roughly the size of a small bear cub. It's creamy white and soft, and it has a large pink and red themed bow tied around its neck. If Arthur weren't so….emotionally trifled, he'd smile in amusement at the little gift.

But Arthur's lips remain downward as he turned up the card sitting in the remaining stuffing and bag on his shelf. His nose scrunches up at the mention of the stupid holiday he was trying with utmost determination to avoid. But then, there's more. Arthur sighed as he read on.

_"I learned from someone that you like bunny rabbits. This is for you! It's cute and huggable like you! :D._  
_You're really neat, so cheer up! Someone out there really cares!"_

Oh god, was that an emoticon? On a handwritten note? How old was this person? Arthur's cheeks burned at him slightly as he gave the plushie in his hand another look. He squeezes the torso. It is quite huggable. How...nice.

This gift doesn't make him want to run away on fear of all it represents. Oh, don't be fooled, he wants to. He desperately wants to. He was wishing it was March. March was great. Why can't it be March yet? A fat lot better than wallowing in...all of this. Well, he can't really just run. He had thought for one fleeting moment of trashing another gift and quickly decided against such a thing. But...then, what does he do now? He's at a loss. A confusion.

Why can't this just all stop? Why can't he just get through this week without any...disruptions? Why can't he just be ignored? Who was this? Why was this person doing this? Was this just simple admiration, or something more? What could they possibly want?

Was this, perhaps, some attempt to mend his ruined holiday week? Ha. Fat chance. _Nothing can mend Francis's-_

No! No, no, no! Argh! Fucking hell! Get out! Francis would know what to do. He would've helped. _You saw him! Snogging that girl-_

His shaking hands drop the stuffed animal, and he's able to pull himself out again. That was vastly alarming. He needs to get a grip, or he will fall. _Just like he said-_

Arthur quickly picked the stuffed animal back up, squeezing it so hard that his knuckles turned white as he put it in his locker, pulling away a textbook or two to give it room to sit comfortably on his shelf. He'll leave it there. It'll be fine. It all will.

It all will.

____________

The stuffed bunny is still there as he opens it after classes, and it's placed in the very back, biggest pocket of his bag. There's a spot on his dresser. He was really quite at a loss for why he was treating this so, but an alternative sounded less favorable, and why was confusing and uncanny and a dangerous subject for Arthur. Pay attention.

His mind is put elsewhere as he enters the council room. As the dance is edging closer, daily meetings are necessary. They needed to confirm all the volunteer staff, and the decor hadn't been started yet. Not to mention everything planned was now two days away.

Arthur is only able to start the electric kettle before somebody else gets in. Well, pity.

"Hey, Arthur? Uh, hi!"

It's Jones.

Arthur's face plummeted into a very visual frown as his eyes left his tea, meeting Alfred's. He wanted to growl and hurl and just leave. But he had very big responsibilities. Very, very big ones that he must not ignore. He is much better than that. Nothing will kick him away. _Francis used to-_ I will repeat, nothing.

"Jones," Arthur muttered, looking back at his tea again. Alfred's smile widened at the acknowledgment. God, Alfred wants more than that. Of course, he does, he's a social butterfly and an idiot, and always wants to talk to somebody. It's the kind of trait he so hated and not ever envied ever once. (Maybe.)

"You always here so early?" Alfred asked, pushing himself up to sit on the counter. Arthur scowled immediately. Honestly, did he have no manners?

"Yes. Get down, that's not a chair!" Arthur said, shooing Alfred away with his free hand.

Alfred pouted childishly for a brief moment before sliding off, back to Arthur's level. He smiled again. "Ya making tea?"

Arthur gave him a look of complete irritation. "What? I don't suppose you want a cup?" He is British after all. He still had his dignity.

"Yeah, if you don't mind!" Alfred said cheerfully, and Arthur's eyebrows rose in surprise. Dignity or not, he wasn't expecting a yes. Alfred was a jock, stereotype and all. His kind didn't drink tea. Huh. What a surprise.

Arthur sighs and reaches for another tea bag. Alfred's eyes floated to the box. "Rose tea, huh? That's kinda Valentine's-themed, don't cha think?"

Arthur violently dropped the entire box. "Don't!" Arthur hissed, sanity almost crashing as his hands landed back on the counter, shaking as memories and unwanted thoughts stabbed his quaking wall. No, no, no, he will not, he refuses, he will not fall. _He mustn't. He will not._

Alfred took on the expression of a bewildered, kicked puppy. "Oh um… but, " Realization seemed to dawn on him. "Oh. Sorry. Really sorry. oh god, um...Here."

Alfred's hands brushed past Arthur's quivering ones as he made to clean up the mess on the counter Arthur caused. The Brit only watches numbly, still frozen, as if the word had rendered his limbs to stone.

"You alright?" Alfred asked for the millionth time in Arthur's week.

"Oh, just jolly," Arthur growled sarcastically, mind screaming bloody murder at everything that ever troubled him as he resumed his tea making. His rage and irritation and low emotional stability is really starting to chip away everything he had built. It scares him.

"Uhhhh…" Alfred began, before he awkwardly paused, seemingly at a loss for words. Arthur didn't care. In fact, he didn't blame him. They hardly talked anyway. Arthur didn't really know that the lad had even known he existed until that day...

The day that Arthur will take care to never mention ever again. He will not. All is just fine, and It will be. Soon, this will all just be memories. Just like that day. _Has Francis forgotten him too?_

Fucking no. He doesn't care.

"Hey, uh listen. If you want, I'm always here. If you need a friend, or just someone to talk to, I'm here." Alfred said, smiling hopefully, hints of anxiety inching through on his highly readable face.

Arthur' hands pause. Alfred was starting to get really quite personal. Why? What did he want? Surely he realized they weren't friends? That they were in completely different social circles? What was going on in that big stupid brain?

Arthur gave him an unfriendly look. "Why? We don't know each other. We don't like each other."

To his surprise, Alfred laughed nervously. Loudly. "Haha! I know! But, like, I want to help you. I know you're being really mean to me and all, but you kinda just look like you need a friend."

Arthur's face dipped downward. He wasn't that worse off. He was fine, wasn't he? He didn't need Alfred's help. But, well….he did need help on his math homework. Bollocks, no! Why was he thinking about letting him in?? Alfred couldn't fix anything! He'll make nothing better! He's not breaking. He will not crack-

Alfred's hand is on his.

"What?" Arthur said, flinching back at his touch. His hands are warm. He hates it.

"Your hands are shaking. You'll make a mess." Alfred said, a look of apology on his face. "Look, I'm sorry if you really don't like me. I'm just trying to help. Please? If you hate me after a week, you can tell me go away, but I just wanna be given a chance. I wanna be your friend. Please, just come on!"

Arthur pinched his brow, calming down the tidal wave of unwanted thoughts. This doesn't have to mean what he thinks it could mean. It's just friends, and Alfred would probably fail and then leave him alone, and then they move on. _How could you move on from Francis?_

No. He can.

"You really want me to say yes, don't you?" Arthur sighed as Alfred nodded almost frantically, face almost way too hopeful and his eyes giving the infamous puppy dog eyes look. Bugger. What a twat. He groans loudly, giving another unfriendly look.

"So?" Alfred said, smile growing wider like a child being told that they were indeed visiting the local amusement park today.

"Fine." He cut off Arthur's victory whoop before it started. "Do not take advantage of this! I swear, if this gets out of hand, if you cross even one line, I will do everything to make you regret it! You understand?"

Alfred nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!" He smiled, a big bright grin that lit up the whole room and quite possibly the entire building. Arthur only nodded gently, letting Alfred go into his little happy dance. What an idiot. What an idiot he was. He sighed, and for the first time that week, one scary little question wasn't chased away so easily.

Could he really recover unscathed?

Was he really….fine?

___________________

_February 13th_

Arthur feels the beginnings of a cold coming on this morning.

And by no means, does it stop Arthur. He absolutely goes to school, the only change being him swallowing some meds and replacing his morning tea with a bottle of orange juice. He will power through this, and he will be okay.

But there's some glaring flaws in this plan, as Arthur had already sneezed almost twenty times before he reached his locker, and he's really regretting not owning travel tissue packs. He stifles yet another cough as he opens his locker, eyes almost blurry as he spots the newest love admiration gift he has.

This time, it's a whole box of chocolates. It's a huge box, the quantity being a total of thirty, and they're the expensive kind. It's a lot more money than the last three and it makes Arthur's already crawling stomach crawl. Ugh.

He examines the box, an ugly feeling crawling up his throat as he feels the corners of lips quiver upward. No. He will not. He shouldn't. He should not. Argh! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! He sneezes violently, his sleeve aggravating his nose as he covered up as much as snot as possible. Ew. Gosh, this was bad. He needed more orange juice. This was beginning to border on the flu. If he had the flu, there was no way his parents would allow him to go to school. Or that dance. Oh, God.

No! He is fine! He's stronger than ever! He never needed Francis! Francis can go die and burn in a hole! _But-_ No! Francis is dead to him! Dead! How could he say all that shit?! Aft _er everything Franc-_ After everything, he threw away?! Francis is gone and that is how it will stay. End of story.

Arthur sneezed, and this time he was unable to deflect it. Snot shot out all over the chocolates and his arm. Ugh, gross! Gross! Arthur gave an embarrassingly disgusted look as he stared at his hand. Being sick was so degrading. At this rate, even his reputation, his dignity, one of the very things he sought to preserve throughout the week, would suffer. _Is it really really worth it? Is he accomplishing anything?_

Yes. Yes he is. It Is worth it. Once this is all over, he can rest, and forget. He'll forget that Francis Bonnefoy was ever a person. He'll move on unscathed, unchanged and ready to take on the world like he always had done, just like he was doing right now. Francis may think he had hurt him, but he is wrong very wrong.

Right?

Yes. _Yes? Really? He can't. Francis was so much. So, so much._ What? No! This is bullshit! Francis will never be named again! Fucking hell! _You arse! How could you?!_

Arthur screamed out loud, slamming his locker in anger at his Inner arguments. He drops the chocolates, and they clatter to the floor. Arthur froze, his whole body sore and painful, his head yelling bloody murder at itself and him and everything and anything.

He looks around. Random people are staring, probably wondering what the ever-loving hell at gotten into him. Arthur's cheeks burned red with embarrassment as he swiftly picked up the chocolates, hugging them close to his chest as if they were a lifeline and fleeing the scene.

______________

By the time he gets to today's student council meeting, the most important one of the week, he's really quite miserable. After a rather humiliating display during the end of his fifth class, a teacher had gifted him with a little packet of small tissues, which he was low key grateful, but the fact that that even happened was getting to Arthur.

Upon arrival, he had seized the boxes of tissues hiding in cupboards, thanking the Lord. This was embarrassing and horrid, and very worrying. He was starting to get nauseous too, a really big, glaring warning light. What if he can't keep this up? He was already bad enough earlier this week. Is he really just slowly losing it? This can't be. This cannot be. No. He will not allow it. Sickness can be ignored too. He'll be fine. He'll rest plenty over the weekend.

His thoughts dip cold again as he goes into a full-blown coughing fit, leaning over the counter. His eyes watered as he tried anything to make himself stop, to power through it like he knew he could and should.

"Arthur? Jesus Christ, you okay?"

Arthur is finally able to stop as his head turns sharply to see Alfred and Elizaveta at the door. Oh no. Oh god please no.

"What? I'm fine." Arthur croaked, and he hates how not fine he sounded. He's breaking and he does not like it and needs to stop. He felt so helpless and it reminded him of last week and Francis and his words and oh god please no.

"Artie, you look like shit!" Alfred protested, and before Arthur could deny anything, a hand was on his forehead.

Arthur lept back. "Get off!" Arthur said, glaring sharply. His glare turns into a look of disgust as he sneezes, the feeling as if his brain was making an attempt to escape through his nose.

"Artie, your forehead is burning. You've got to have some sort of fever." Alfred said, look of concern powerful and irritating to Arthur. He's right, and Arthur hates it and pushes it away like it is the demon of his sins.

"Do you need rest? You really shouldn't be getting so overworked." Elizaveta joined in, now getting concerned as well. Argh, no. He doesn't want their concern. Can't they just all leave him alone and let him deal with things in peace! _That's all that Francis wanted to do!_ Peace? You bloody idiot! How could you-

"I'm fine. I need to print the announcement lists. " Arthur growled out, but Alfred grabbed his side firmly.

"Arthur!" Alfred said. Arthur looked away, trying to tug himself out of the other's grip, but a jock golden boy like Alfred had a lot more strength than small, scrawny, and currently sick Arthur. "Come on, you really shouldn't this to yourself. You'll make it worse!"

"Alfred, move," Arthur said angrily, pushing against Alfred's wrist.

"Arthur, stop being such a stubborn mule!" Elizaveta argued, folding her arms. "You're gonna kill yourself!"

"D-Don't is such a tos- '' but Arthur can't finish his sentence before he goes into another round of uncontrollable coughing, literally trying to stop himself from heaving on the floor.

"Woah, Arthur! Shit!" Alfred said, beginning to panic a little and worry more As Arthur's coughs got more and more violent, until he finally puked on the floor. Alfred yelped, holding onto Arthur tightly as he vomited.

"Ugh! "Oh, God!" Elizaveta scrunched her nose, a look of disgust and concern on her face. "Okay, forget it. We need to get this poor man home. Like, right now."

What?! No!! No!!! "I-I..." He croaked. He cleared his throat as best he could, trying to regain his composure as his hands held onto Alfred's arms involuntarily. "I-I'm fine! I need to do this! This is the most impor-" He was cut off as another wave of nausea rushed up, a hand leaping to cover his lips. Ugh, oh no. He groaned out loud, putting on a very convincing display that he was fine.

"Arthur, no! You just threw up on the floor and you think you're fine? That's bull! You need to rest!" Alfred said, giving Arthur an uncharacteristically serious look that really began to make Arthur's already crawling stomach crawl even more. Ugh.

"Alfred's right." Elizaveta agreed, folding her arms. "I'll take over today. You need to get your sick butt home."

Arthur growled wordlessly at them both, trying to come up with an argument. He wasn't stupid, he knew he couldn't change their minds like this. _They don't understand._

"Come on, Arthur. Let's get your stuff. I'm gonna drive you home." Alfred announced, tugging the other forward.

Arthur grumbled and groaned, anything to show how unenthusiastic he was about all of this, how he didn't want to be back in Alfred's car and wanted to stay here and be fine, but by the time he had something to say, he was already relapsing into more coughing and groaning, more clear sign to everyone that he had lost his case.

He felt himself burning with shame as Alfred walked him out into the parking lot, the cold air of February blasting into their faces.

"Ah, God! I forgot how cold it was!" Alfred said, shivering a little in his layers of coats. He glances at Arthur and stops walking. "You're gonna freeze in that little windbreaker jacket. You got a bigger one anywhere?"

Arthur glared at his addled concern, it all starting to be too much. First his love, and his will, now his dignity? _You really are broken without Francis! Ha! He would laugh at this!_ What? No he wouldn't! Who cares!! He certainly didn't! _Yes you do! Stop denying it!_

He tenses up like stone as he feels Alfred's bomber jacket on his shoulders. "What the hell?" Arthur snarled, his voice harsh as his thoughts wreak havoc on his already slipping control. No, he can't keep this up. No. He can't. He really can't. He's going home. The walk of shame. _He really can't handle himself without Francis. Of course. He can't. Can't. Can't. Can't._

"Don't get your panties in a twist, it's just my jacket," Alfred explained patiently, patting the leather as he zipped up his first jacket. "It's cold, and you're already sick. Don't wanna make things worse, now do we?"

Arthur says nothing, sighing as he stiffly took to the leather jacket, cheeks burning and body sore. He remembers the softness of his bed and feels the shame and anger build higher, pounding against his walls. He doesn't want this, he doesn't want to coddled and treated like he couldn't handle this, couldn't handle the past week, because god dammit! Yes, he can!! _You reckless idiot!! Don't you see?! You're done!! Francis has cost you everything! Don't you realize he took your heart with him!?_

No. No, he didn't.... He's fine, see? Completely fine.....

Arthur sniffles as Alfred breaks away to open his car door, gesturing to help Arthur into his truck. Arthur shakily pushes away Alfred's hand, a scowl of high discomfort set on his face as he climbed in.

Alfred looked disappointed, but he let it go as he walked around to get into the driver's seat. In the next seconds, the vehicle roars to life, and Alfred begins to drive.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up, Arthur," Alfred said, trying to be helpful and caring as a smile appears on his face as he looks at the road. "Everyone gets sick. You'll be as good as new in a couple of days!"

Arthur only growls, slamming his head against Alfred's dashboard and keeping it there, his world crashing down and burning all around him. He hadn't felt this, hadn't thought these thoughts in this extreme since last week. He had banished them, knowing he must move on. Francis thought he cared so? Fuck. No he didn't. Arthur didn't give a damn!

 _Yes you do. Yes you do. Yes you do!_  
Arthur shivers, his eyes going blurry. No. Not here. He's fine! Fine! Fine! No! Not in Alfred's car! Not here!

"Yeah, so do you have soup at home? I could go stop and get some. And maybe something like orange juice? Or Gatorade?"

"No..." Arthur mumbled, holding his head in his hands. He doesn't want this. He does not want this. He just wants to go home and never be bothered and never care again because Francis really did ruin his world, and he's gone, gone, and his love was never real. _He never loved you like you wanted. He never wanted this to you. Not wanted. Not wanted. Not wanted._

"No? You sure? It wouldn't take me long to hit a cornerstore or something." Alfred said, turning to smile reassuringly at Arthur at the red light. "Maybe a grocery store. Your stomach alright though? There's some plastic bags in the glove department. You can help yourself."

Arthur made no attempt to move, only sitting there with his head buried in the stiff dashboard as his reckless run from reality began to end. _After all you did, Francis did nothing. He's gone. Gone. You might never see him again. His baby blue eyes....his smile, oh how you used to hate it..._

He sniffles, fear and anger clouding in. No, he doesn't want to cry. He doesn't want to miss Francis! He just wanted to move on. He doesn't want him to be right! He's better! Isn't he!? Isn't he?!!

_No. You're not._

"Artie? Oh come, answer me, bud. You alright? You gonna throw up again?" Alfred asked, eyes flashing with worry as he ran a dangerous game of trying to look at Arthur and the road at the same time. It was a miracle they weren't on such public roads right then.

"No." Arthur said, voice muffled as he buried his face in his hands, trying to calm down. He couldn't burst now, and even worse, in front of Alfred! He'll be ruined! _You're already ruined! Don't you see?! We've lost Francis!! Who in the world mattered more?! Who made everything better as he did?! Who did we love any more than Francis??_

And it wasn't enough. It was never enough apparently

Arthur then realizes tears are on his face, escaping his eyes as they trailed silently down his face. Oh no. No. No. No. Please, no. Francis is nothing. He doesn't want to miss Francis, not ever, please, please, stop, stop, just stop! Stop! _Francis never loved you. Ever. He never did._

_Francis never loved you_

Arthur can't stop the dry sob from escaping his dry, sore throat. It's raw and it's been held back for way too long and it hurts. It hurts everywhere. He's lost Francis. Why did he think he could just run?

"Arthur, hey Arthur?" Alfred looks over, getting a full look at Arthur. "Oh geez, are you crying?"

No. No. No. Not here. Please not now. He never wanted this. He didn't want to lose Francis. He meant so much. _Why? Why wasn't he good enough? Did he do something wrong?_ "I-I...I-I'm fine...I just..." He sniffed, rubbing at his burning eyes. "Focus on the road."

But the vehicle stops. Arthur jerks up, light glaring in his eyes as he realizes Alfred had pulled over. Oh no. No. He doesn't want Alfred's full attention. Shit. Shit. _Shit._ "Alfred, what are you doing?" He snarled, angry at himself for missing and mourning Francis, angry at Alfred for caring and not leaving him the fuck alone. Why couldn't he have just left him alone?

"Arthur, what's wrong? You're crying! Here-" Alfred's hands snatched napkins from the side compartment. He handed them to Arthur. "Blow your nose, it's flowing like a waterfall, dude."

But Arthur doesn't take the napkins. He just wipes his nose on his already gross sleeve. "Just drive. I don't want your help. J-Just get me home!" He wants to be alone, away from Alfred, away from the world. He's already failed, he's already ruined everything. _Why can't he just go the fuck away?!_

"Arthur, please, you need to let me help. You're going to plow yourself into the ground if you keep going at yourself like this! Here." Alfred made an attempt to clean Arthur's face himself, but Arthur slapped his hand away sharply.

"Arth-" Alfred began.

"No! I don't want your bloody help! I never wanted it! You've already forced me to go home, Jones! Just get back on the road and drop me off already!" Arthur yelled, and he doesn't stop, he can't. He lets the emotions override everything, just like he had wanted to since this past week. He hates Alfred. He hates Valentine's day. He hates it all.

Alfred looked hurt, his hand recoiling. But he doesn't let down. "Arthur... You can't just keep doing this to yourself. You need a break. You've been overworking yourself. Look at your face! You're sick! When was the last time you even slept normally?!"

"Why the fuck do you care?!" Arthur screamed, and his throat does too, and everything's painful and sore and oh God, he wants it all to stop. Stop, just stop! "You didn't even care that I existed until you waltzed right in and told me Francis was cheating on me! What the fuck do you want Alfred?! Why can you just leave me the fuck alone?!"

Alfred stays silent, eyes hurt and lost and sad looking. It's too much. He doesn't want to face this, he wants it all to just go away. Go away. _Go away._ He just wants Francis back.

And he can't.

Arthur growls, tears blurring everything as they slide down his face. He doesn't want to deal with this anymore. He wants Alfred to go away. His hand jerks at the car door. "Let me out." He snarled, voice shaking and broken.

Alfred snapped out of it. "No."

"Alfred! Let me out!" Arthur yelled, and his hands jerked at the car handle, trying to do so himself. He desperately wants to get out of here, just go someplace and cry, cry alone, burn alone and mourn Francis and burn everything and just... Why was he never enough? Why did Francis not want him?! Why?! Why.....

"No, Arthur," Alfred said, and his hand grips Arthur's shaking shoulder. "Where do you think you'll go? Please! Just understand-"

"Don't you bloody realize I don't want to understand?!" Arthur lashed out, his hands digging so hard into the bomber jacket that his knuckles were white. "I wanna go home! You never gave a damn about me and now you want to help?! Shit! Just go away, Alfred!! Fucking leave me alone!"

"Arthur, what does this solve?!" Alfred said, not considering Arthur angered and broken sobbing pleas at all. "Don't you realize that you can't keep doing this?!"

"I don't fucking care!!" Arthur screeched. "Don't you realize?! One of the only people who ever gave a damn about me is gone!! Gone! And he's left me with nothing! N-Nothing!"

"Arthur...." Alfred said, trailing off, lost after such a proclamation. Arthur doesn't care. He just wants to cry. Cry and wallow in loss. Agony. What is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to do without Francis?

"J-Just...." He lets out choked sobs, losing it. Anger can't fight sadness. Loneliness. Francis was supposed to chase that away, let nothing hurt Arthur so badly, just like this. But he's not here. He never cared. He's alone.  
"F-Francis meant so much. I-I don't...." He violently shakes, sobs taking over. "I don't w-wanna do this w-without him."

"Oh, Arthur..." He sighs, before leaning forward in his seat, holding Arthur shaking shoulders in a gesture of comfort. "Arthur, how long have you been holding this back? Did you cut loose at all since then?"

No. He had gone home and thrown things, yelled and even blew up at Peter, which he did regret, but he didn't cry or let himself mourn. He ran. He ran and ignored how much Francis had hurt him and now it was blowing up in his face. No more Francis. No more Francis. He's gone. Gone. "I-I can't. He...H-He...I don't know what to do without him. He was everything and now...He's run off...H-He left me!" He sobbed, shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, Arthur, come here," Alfred said, and then he enveloped Arthur in his arms. Arthur wants to push him away, anger bubbling deep down, but in the end, he does nothing, letting Alfred hold him as he kept crying, sobbing out tears that were held back much too long.

Arthur didn't why he was letting this happen, but he didn't care anymore. He just wanted to cry and cry and just let it all out. He felt so stupid, foolish for thinking he could ever deceive himself into thinking Francis was never anything to him. How stupid.

They sat there, Alfred hugging Arthur as he sobbed into his shoulders, the only other sound being passing cars and the quiet hum of the car. Arthur didn't know how much time passed, and he didn't care.

"D-Did I do something wrong....?" Arthur asked himself quietly.

Alfred shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. "Of course you didn't."

Arthur lets out another gut-wrenching sob, his face gross and depressing. He disagrees. Oh, so, so much. "W-Why didn't F-Francis want to stay? I....I-I thought...I thought he l-loved me....but...."

"Arthur, none of this is your fault. Francis did this to you. He took you for granted and abandoned you. It's his loss. Not yours. You don't deserve this." Alfred said firmly, rubbing Arthur's quivering back.

"B-But.....I-I just..... I don't know what I'm going to do without him... He was e-e-everything!" He sobbed loudly. Everything hurts.

"It's okay Arthur. You'll heal. He can't hurt you anymore. I promise. I'm here for you, okay?"

Arthur only let loose another sob, unable to give a proper answer. It all hurts. He just lets Alfred hold him, losing it and crying himself out on Alfred's jacket. It's nice and warm and safe, just like Francis, and he's missed this so dearly.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Arthur was finally able to hold back a sob. He sighed instead, staring out the truck windows. "Alfred....why are you doing this?"

Alfred pulled back to look Arthur in the eyes. Even in all of this depressing emotion, his eyes still sparkled. "You mean helping you? Why do I want to be your friend, even through this?" He was very understanding, a stark contrast from the day to day jock that walked the school, but Arthur didn't want to ask or care right then.

"Y-Yeah. I've been horrible to you. I've been unfair." Arthur said, calming down. He needs to know. He has to.

"Yeah. I know. But, I don't like how I left things last week. I felt guilty. I know you needed to know Francis was cheating on you, but it looked like it devastated you and I felt bad, and I just... Oh gosh...."

Arthur sniffled. "What?" He said, confused at Alfred's hesitance. He looked nervous. Why? What about this could possibly scare him? "Alfred?"

"Arthur....please don't get mad or anything. This is kinda..." Alfred sighed, smiling nervously. "There's kinda a big reason why I wanna be your friend, and stuff and, why I told you about Francis....so, you deserve an explanation."

Arthur sniffled again, rubbing his sick and sore nose as he stared at Alfred's anxious eyes. What could possibly be this important? "Alfred...just tell me. I won't get mad at you...I just...." He hesitated, trying to relay how he felt. "You don't have to, but....you know..." It's an embarrassing answer and it's so terrible, but Arthur finds himself incapable of anything else.

"Okay....here goes, huh?" Alfred laughed to himself. One of his hands squeezed Arthur's. "This might be too much. After what Francis did to you and everything. I just...."

"A-Alfred...please just get it out already." He said, holding onto Alfred just as tightly, for he was the only thing keeping him sane and safe.  
"I can't get much more emotionally unstable than this..."

"R-Right.....So...You know those little gifts you kept getting in your locker?" Alfred began rather anxiously.

What? What did that have anything to do with this? "Yes....?" Arthur said croakily, wondering what was going on. Then again, he had no idea what was going on with him either.

"That....well, um...that was me..." Alfred finished, closing his eyes and awaiting Arthur's reaction.

What? Arthur was stunned. Alfred? Alfred was the one gifting him those things? But...."Why....?"

"B-Because....oh dear god." Alfred laugher nervously sounded more and more anxious by the minute. Arthur waited, this all getting confusing for the already tired and disheveled Arthur. "I....sort of....have this big crush on you!"

Arthur froze...wha? What? Him? Golden boy Alfred had a crush? On him? A guy? "You? H-Have have a crush on me?"

"Well...Y-Yeah! I'm sorry, I just...I know you don't like me and probably far from caring or being happy about it, but...I've kinda been having this big crush on you this past year. It's why I've been...so, you know, caring and looking out for you."

"R-Really?" Arthur asked, voice cracking as he reached up to wipe away the remaining tears. It didn't seem entirely unbelievable, just strange. And a little flattering. Arthur didn't know right now. He didn't want to know right now.

"Yeah. You're really cute and smart, and a total ass, but...I couldn't help it. I'm sorry if it disturbs you." Alfred said, smiling sadly. "I just wanted you to know. I know you need a lot of time to yourself to recover and stuff... You don't have to care, you can just forget...if you want."

Forget? Bollocks. He can't do that. "Alfred....I'm not disgusted or anything. I just...." He huffed. "I don't want anything to do with this holiday or couples right now. I just.....don't know what else I can do... I'm so lost. I thought I knew, and then Francis just......"

"Threw you away?" Alfred finished, face looking sad as he squeezed Arthur's hands.

Y-Yeah...." Arthur murmured, devastated to find its true. "I can't return your feelings right now...I just wanna....get over Francis. I tried to just forget him and ignore him but...it's not so easy."

"I know. I don't expect anything from you. I just wanted you to know and stuff." Alfred said.

They sat there until Arthur felt his back begin to ache too. Everything ached. He sighed, looking at the time. "Your gas is probably pretty low." He commented.

"Oh yeah, running car. Oops." Alfred regained some of his old friendly charms, laughing as he released Arthur. "Guess I gotta get you home."

"Yeah," Arthur answered, leaning back in the passenger seat.

"Hey, you okay now?" Alfred asked, the look of concern returning. Arthur looked at him, hand reaching to rub his stomach. Everything still hurt, and he still felt like sick trash, but...he did feel better. Somewhat. 

Better than he did when he had left school earlier. "Yeah."

Alfred grinned, pulling the gear out of the parking. "Good. Awesome. Let's get ya home then."

_________________

_February 14th_

To no one's surprise, his mother does indeed deem Arthur too sick to go to school. To his surprise, he didn't mind all too much.

He spent the day mostly in bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom. He was yet to puke again, but sneezing and coughing were still very frequent occurrences, and his rubbish bin steadily filled with snot and tissues.

He felt uncomfortable, being sick while Elizaveta and the group worked their butts off, but in the end, he knew everyone was right. He needed to rest. It was pitiful that he needed to cry his guts out in Alfred's truck in order to reach this conclusion, but he knew it was true. There was no way he could work from here anyway. His mother would kill him.

So, he instead tried his best to relax. This included mostly just him lying in bed, blankets, and pillows surrounding him as he binge-watched Sherlock on Netflix for the third time. It was nice and relaxing. He could finally just rest...and heal.

Around evening, he got a visitor.

At first, he figured it was Elizaveta or someone here with his homework, but no.

It was Alfred.

Alfred stood in his bedroom doorway, being sent upstairs by Arthur's mother. "Hi." He greeted, smiling with a package in his hands. It's the same kind of packaging his secret admirer had been sending gifts in. Figures.

"Hello," Arthur said shortly, finding it immensely odd that Alfred Jones was in his bedroom.

To further that thought, Alfred looked around as he slowly walked in, a smile growing. "Your room's nice....and very British."

Arthur snorted, rubbing his red nose as he gave Alfred a look. "Oh, haha. Is that all then? Come up here to comment on my bedroom then?"

"Oh, hahaha! Nope!" Alfred said cheerfully, and then he held up the festive bag and shook it a little. "This is for you!"

Arthur didn't greet this gift with the same loathing and hatred. He knew better now. Instead, he calmly held out his hands as Alfred handed him the bag. He peered inside.

This time, it's a card. Arthur pulls it out and examines it. It's generic and from Hallmark, but Arthur knows it's Alfred and knows to expect nothing else. He opens it. Inside is a poem. A long one, written in red and pink, sparkling ink.

"Since when had you gotten good at poetry? I swear you suck at English." Arthur asked curiously, brow furrowing as he finished the poem, impressed by the quality and effect. It's almost perfect. Well, almost.

"Eh, I had some help from my bud, Tolys. He's really good at creative writing and stuff. Weird, it's not even his first language, but you know." Alfred shrugged, smiling. "Flip it over."

Arthur does so, finding a gift card taped to the back. He looks at it. It's his favorite cafe. Fifty dollars. He looked up, smirking. "How much money are you spending on me?"

"Enough," Alfred said, grinning at the long last positive reaction. "It's alright, I like spoiling you. Do you like it? Did you like all of it?"

Arthur nods, deciding he did. He knows just yesterday, he would've hated them, but that was irrational. He's had peace now, and well, he likes them. The stuffed rabbit is even sitting there on his night desk. He's already a little attached to that one.

"I'm sorry that I threw the first one away." Arthur said, suddenly remembering. "I was still pretty messed up and I just…..lumped Francis and the holiday together…"

"It's cool. That was the most un-expensive one anyway. Can I ask why though? Why did you hate Valentine's day?"

"Because I just…." Arthur sighed, a shiver still going down his spine after hearing that holiday out loud again. "Francis and I always did something rather big on this day….and he just…..he's probably taking a date out like that right now."

"I don't blame you...It's okay though. He's not here now. You can move on." Alfred said, smiling, a bright light in Arthur's bleak world.

"Yeah…." Arthur murmured.

"So, mind if I stick around?" Alfred asked hopefully.

Arthur gave a look of surprise. "You're not going to the dance tonight? No friends? Anything?"

"Nah. Not really. I'm sure here's more fun. Besides, you could probably use the company." Alfred gave a big lopsided grin.

Arthur supposed he had no trouble with Alfred being here. In the end, It was all okay. It will be. Yeah. He'll heal. "Okay. Be my guest, I suppose. You are not afraid of getting sick?"

"Me? Nope! My immune system is a beast!" Alfred announced proudly.

"Sure whatever," Arthur said snarkily, rolling his eyes. "I'm just watching Netflix. You can just choose a movie or something I guess."

"Oh cool," Alfred said, eagerly shuffling over to face Arthur's laptop. "Disney alright with you?"

Somehow, Arthur's not surprised that Alfred's go-to was Disney. "Sure." He answered, letting Alfred take his mouse as he giggled in victory. It's nice having company. Relaxing. Not worrying, for once in his life.

In the end, he does miss Francis. A lot. A crippling amount. It's a hole he feels he might not be able to properly fill, even now. But he's fine. He will be fine. He's okay.

He'll heal.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> FrUk lovers please don't put my head on a stick. I don't hate FrUk that much I just write •<•


End file.
